he marriage of Lara Cameron to Philip Adler made headlines around the world. When Howard Keller heard the news, he went out and got drunk for the first time in his life. He had kept telling himself that Lara's infatuation with Philip Adler would pass. Lara and I are a team. We belong together. No one can come between us. He stayed drunk for two days, and when he sobered up, he telephoned Lara in Paris.

"If it's true," he said, "tell Philip I said he's the luckiest man who ever lived."

"It's true," Lara assured him brightly.

"You sound happy."

"I've never been happier in my life!"

"I...I'm pleased for you, Lara. When are you coming home?"

"Philip is giving a concert in London tomorrow, and then we'll be back in New York."

"Did you talk to Paul Martin before the wedding?"

She hesitated. "No."

"Don't you think you should do it now?"

"Yes, of course." She had been more concerned about that than she wanted to admit to herself. She was not sure how he was going to take the news of her marriage. "I'll talk to him when I get back."

"I'll sure be glad to see you. I miss you."

"I miss you, too, Howard." And it was true. He was very dear. He had always been a good and loyal friend. I don't know what I would have done without him, Lara thought.

When the 727 taxied up to the Butler Aviation Terminal at New York's La Guardia Airport, the press was there in full force. There were newspaper reporters and television cameras.

The airport manager led Lara and Philip into the reception office. "I can sneak you out of here," he said, "or..."

Lara turned to Philip. "Let's get this over with, darling. Otherwise, they'll never let us have any peace."

"You're probably right."

The press conference lasted for two hours. "Where did you two meet...?"

"Have you always been interested in classical music, Mrs. Adler...?"

"How long have you known each other...?"

"Are you going to live in New York...?"

"Will you give up your touring, Mr. Adler...?"

Finally, it was over.

There were two limousines waiting for them. The second one was for luggage.

"I'm not used to traveling in this kind of style," Philip said.

Lara laughed. "You'll get used to it."

When they were in the limousine, Philip asked, "Where are we going? I have an apartment on Fifty-seventh Street..."

"I think you might be more comfortable at my place, darling. Look it over, and if you like it, we'll have your things moved in."

They arrived at the Cameron Plaza. Philip looked up at the huge building.

"You own this?"

"A few banks and I."

"I'm impressed."

Lara squeezed his arm. "Good. I want you to be."

The lobby had been freshly decorated with flowers. A half dozen employees were waiting to greet them.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Adler, Mr. Adler."

Philip looked around and said, "My God! All this is yours?"

"Ours, sweetheart."

The elevator took them up to the penthouse. It covered the whole forty-fifth floor. The door was opened by the butler.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Adler."

"Thank you, Simms."

Lara introduced Philip to the rest of the staff and showed him through the duplex penthouse. There was a large white drawing room, filled with antiques, a large enclosed terrace, a dining room, four master bedrooms and three staff bedrooms, six bathrooms, a kitchen, a library, and an office.

"Do you think you could be comfortable here, darling?" Lara asked.

Philip grinned. "It's a little small - but I'll manage."

In the middle of the drawing room was a beautiful new Bechstein piano. Philip walked over to it and ran his fingers over the keys.

"It's wonderful!" he said.

Lara moved to his side. "It's your wedding present."

"Really?" He was touched. He sat down at the piano and began to play.

"I just had it tuned for you." Lara listened as the cascade of notes filled the room. "Do you like it?"

"I love it! Thank you, Lara."

"You can play here to your heart's content."

Philip rose from the piano bench. "I'd better give Ellerbee a call," Philip said. "He's been trying to reach me."

"There's a telephone in the library, darling."

Lara went into her office and turned on the answering machine. There were half a dozen messages from Paul Martin. "Lara, where are you? I miss you, darling"..."Lara, I assume you're out of the country, or I would have heard from you"..."I'm worried about you, Lara. Call me..." Then the tone changed. "I just heard about your marriage. Is it true? Let's talk."

Philip had walked into the room. "Who's the mysterious caller?" he asked.

Lara turned. "An...an old friend of mine."

Philip walked up to her and put his arms around her.

"Is he someone I should be jealous of?"

Lara said softly, "You don't have to be jealous of anyone in the world. You're the only man I've ever loved." And it's true.

Philip held her closely. "You're the only woman I've ever loved."

Later that afternoon, while Philip sat at the piano, Lara went back into her office and returned Paul Martin's telephone calls.

He came on the line almost immediately. "You're back." His voice was tight.

"Yes." She had been dreading this conversation.

"I don't mind telling you that the news was quite a shock, Lara."

"I'm sorry, Paul...I...it happened rather suddenly."

"It must have."

"Yes." She tried to read his mood.

"I thought we had something pretty good going for us. I thought it was something special."

"It was, Paul, but..."

"We'd better talk about it."

"Well, I..."

"Let's make it lunch tomorrow. Vitello's. One o'clock." It was an order.

Lara hesitated. It would be foolish to antagonize him any further. "All right, Paul. I'll be there."

The line went dead. Lara sat there worried. How angry was Paul, and was he going to do anything about it?